Once More
by MidnightMoonWarrior
Summary: Prompt Fill - During the Thunder Battle, Fili and Kili are not separated, but instead clinging to each other. In short, Kili is an idiot, an adorable one, but nevertheless a fool when it comes to his brother. And the same could be said for the other. - AU with slight language and FLUFF. No deliberate slashing, unless you want to see it that way. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Prompt Fill - **During the Thunder Battle, Fili and Kili are not separated, but instead clinging to each other.

**Summary (In short) -** Kili is an idiot, an adorable one, but nevertheless a fool.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the hobbit nor will I ever. I am just a fan who wonders about what could've happened and is inspired by the genius that is the cast and crew of the movies. (and the author who started it all)

**Pairing:** None. Can be seen as Durincest if you squint ish, but it has the general tag of brotherly love.

**Warning:** Fluff. Lots and lots and lots of fluff. Also - Suspension of Canon, as mentioned below.

**AN (1) :** This is an AU, so as you can expect there are some differences. First off, in the story Kili jumps the gap - since that is not possible, I am telling you that Kili had faster reactions and that the giant was sleeping in getting up. Just roll with it. :)

**AN (2) :** This is my first time writing Kili and Fili as characters, so please correct me if there are inconsistencies. Also, I can't do accents for the life of me, so the few spoken lines in this are normal, no specific language used. I love constructive criticism so please tell me. Reviews are love and flames are used for marshmallows!

**AN (3 and last!) :** The POVs switch off between Fili and Kili, with a dash of Thorin. You should be able to tell, but I will tell you at the beginning of every section. This first chapter is all Fili, the gold lion himself!

**Onwards! ( And apologies for the short chapter) **

* * *

It's at this moment when he wishes he was not a dwarf, or at least not of the line of Durin. Then he would not be squinting against the fury of the storm, struggling to see even though his vision is near perfect.

He would be at home, the hearth warm and his mother's smile bright as day melted into night. The steam coming off of the simple, but hearty food would warm his bones and erase the chills that seem almost permanent. There would be laughter, mostly from his brother who would kicking him underneath the table with a sly smile on his face. He would do the same, basking in the glow while waiting on their Uncle, who he and Kili would tease later for being late to the table...

"GO SLOW AND BE CAREFUL!"

The words seem almost constant now, a repetitive warning coming from the King under the Mountain; his Uncle's words having been in his ears from the start of this journey through the mountains. If he was not a dwarf, or a Durin heir, he would not be here listening to those words, not here in the soaking cold and watery air. If he was not...but he is.

He is a dwarf, one that was cast out like the others before his time on earth, and he is of Durin heritage, the ones to lead their race, so he does what he always has. He bears the weight; of princehood, of battle, and now, of the storm. Shoulders bowed, but back straight, he takes the attacks of rain and slicing wind. Much worse than an orc attack, at lease then he could see his enemy. He continues on the path towards their home, trudging behind the others with complaint, trying to forget about the wishes for home and warmth.

"Did you hear what he said brother? I had a bit of water in my ears between now and the last time, so I'm not sure"

He barely hears the words over the storm, but it's the unmistakable voice that breaks him from his facade. Looking up, he sees the dwarf in front of him turned and grinning over his shoulder. Kili, even with wet hair in his face, is the happier of the two of them, as he always is. Even now, as he is soaked through and through, he feels a bit of warmth at the wide smile.

"Aye brother, he said to focus on where you're going!" It's a light thing, hardly a slap compared to other things he done, that he delivers to the back of his brother's head. It's playful and raises both their spirits despite the bloody rain that Durin has decided to bring down on them. It reminds him what he is doing here in the first place.

When his Uncle had decided on this quest, thought was given to leaving him at home. He was the son of Durin, prince to the throne; it would be smart to leave a heir behind just incase the quest failed and the unthinkable occurred. Though a harrowing thought, it was still possible that the King, his Uncle, may fall; the idea of barring him from the trip had weighed heavily on many minds and had been debated many days as he had heard. IN the end, he had been the one to make the decision, due to his brother's involvement. Kili, though he was younger, had already been slated to go and with that fact in mind he had told his Uncle that he was going. As he had been told later, the firmness in his voice and challenge in his eyes had left no room for argument, not even from the king.

If there was a chance that the King may pass, then he was not going to idle at home while his brother was possibly in danger. He had to be there, plain and simple. It was is sworn position to protect his brother, a duty he placed before his princehood, even though he would never say such aloud. Kili would always be behind him, away from the danger, protected; he had decided such when the mess of brown hair had been born. Two big bright, dark brown eyes had looked up at him later and they never stopped, not even to this day. He had dealt with the scrapes, the bullies, and the messes his brother had gotten into; it had started in his fifth year and it wasn't going to end now. He would be there, with no regret.

So here he was, being turned into a dripping mess of fur and braids, happy in such a position. He could see his brother's back, bowed such as his to bear the rain, and that was all that mattered. On heir of Durin would be guaranteed to survive if he had anything to say about it; over his cold, mangled body.

In that moment, the deep rumble of both the storm and the King came to his ears once more, the ground moving beneath his carefully placed feet. Some shouts, telling of rocks and panic, followed; he found the nearest hold he could and anchored himself to it. He would not fall, nor slip, even if the grip was held by sure will alone; the other arm wound around his brother's waist. Not that he did not trust the other's footfalls, but he would not leave it to chance. Not now, when something could go wrong.

The body he held did not resist his hold, instead relaxing into the touch; he used that to his advantage, tucking the taller dwarf inwards. He alone would take the force of the falling rock, no harm would come to his little brother;he clutched the younger closer as the rock face shook and thunder rolled all around.

When it was over, a pause in the attack, he loosened his grip on Kili, not the mountain. He knew his brother would raise a fuss later about not being a youngling anymore, lying and saying he was not needed anymore. He would roll his eyes and shrug it off, a content look on his face, a peace due to the safety of the other. That look was on his face now, as Kili stood and shook off his hold with a look of slight irritation, complemented with an underlying smile.

It was almost a routine for them; one saving the other, then irritation, before finally banter that drew laughter to all including them. Oh yes, Kili would complain later, but now he was humbled.

Everything was alright.

The mountain, seeming to read his mind, rumbled deeper than ever before. There were more yells, of something more than thunder and rock. Giants? All it registered as was danger, and he was back on guard. He reached toward his brother, eyes searching the falling water for the other's gaze.

"Kili, grab my hand!"

But they were already moving apart, inches every moment, the awakened stone beast accomplishing something not even orcs or their mother could do, seperating them. There was no presence by his side and in that moment, he knew his face was something in the company of pure panic. It was too far to jump safely, but his arm was still out reached, embrace still open to protect and calm. His body was still readied for the other's body, to shield. Only his mind knew the truth.

He stood there, everything forgotten (even the damned rain) as he stared at the other. It had only been moments, if only he had been faster or had longer legs, his brother would be safe.

If only, it was killing him. He could do nothing.

"FILI!"

The call only worsened the pain, but then he looked up and gaped. His brain stopped, the images processing driving it haywire; the instinct to protect and hold took over as he moved to the edge. He found a hand hold, blindly, fingers scraped and torn as he ran them over the rough surface, and leaned over the edge to catch the most precious thing in his world.

His brother...who was in mid air coming towards him.

* * *

OH NO! What is Kili thinking? (Obviously he's not...)

Reviews would be much appreciated and ONWARDS TO THE NEXT CHAPTER! Once I get it typed up of course, so SORRY FOR THE SHORT CHAPTER BUT MORE IS COMING!


	2. Chapter 2

**On to chapter two, where we can see what Kili decides to do. **

**Note: **( It's not the full distance - because no one would make that. Remember that it's AU - Kili has quicker reactions and jumps before they are entirely apart. And the stone giant pauses in getting up...to yawn. Or something, just roll with it. Enjoy! )

**AN: **There is a MEMORY sequence, as there will be in future chapters, and it will be like _this so you can know the difference _between PRESENT and _PAST. _

**ANN: **I have no idea about dwarf ages, because I really want Kili to be like 8ish in the memory but I have no idea how that translates into dwarf years, it's an inconsistency you will have to deal wit. Sorry.

**ANN: All other warnings, the disclaimer, and information can be found in the first chapter! **

**ENJOY! **

* * *

He only had one warning, that was all he received. It had been all he had ever needed, so it was not a surprising fact in his mind. The splitting of rock went unnoticed, the sounds of yells and thunder, all there was to exist was...

"Kili, grab my hand!"

And he did; he moved his hand accordingly to the urgent request, but his hand came up empty. The reassuring warmth was not pulling him closer and all he found was an image of it slipping away. The eyes of his brother were terrified, something they never showed, and it took him little to mimic the same.

He had always worn his emotions on his sleeve, always easier to read than his brother. "Like and open book" Their mother had teased, which made him wonder what he was showing now, to those scared eyes. Fear, he expected, even though he was of the line of Durin, brother to the prince, who looked about as fearsome as a youngling at the moment. He would have teased the other, but they were apart.

It was only inches, feet now, but it was an ocean of dark, with the water not below but coming from above. The rock was unsteady when it had just been firm and his feet slipped even though they had been stilled before. Tremors ran up him as a thought of holding on to the rock next to him came to mind, as his Uncle was yelling to the rest of the company.

It was ignored, in favor of another idea.

He was one of the tallest in the company, something that meant little when you were a dwarf among elf or men, but he clung to it and stepped back. While it was not the smartest plan, it would work. It had to. If they were to die, it had to be together.

With this and no regrets, he took a breath; it was going to work. Ignoring the shouts of the others, he made it all count;the tensed muscle made over years, the timing learned by the way of the arrow, and the faith that he would be caught. One foot left on the rock and momentum guiding him, he gave a warning, just one, but it was all that was needed.

"FILI!"

Then, through the rain and wind, he was flying.

And he was no longer afraid.

* * *

_It was all his fault, as the situation usually was. It was his idea to go climbing anyway, but they should have never, no matter if he wished to prove himself better than the elves. They were rumored to sit for hours, high above the ground, instead if hunting properly like his Uncle did. He was only a youngling, just past his twentieth year and yet it had seemed like a good idea at the moment to scale the bark of a tree that seemed to scrape the sky. _

_Biw he was alone, separated from his brother by a gap in the branches. The limb he was on creaked and cracked under him in warning, he hugged the trunk beside him and did the worst thing he could do. He stared down. Down, towards the ground that promised pain. _

_It was so far, almost as much as the space between him and the next branch, where Fili stood; his fingernails dug into the bark to the point where the tips would more than likely bruise. No matter his fear, he couldn't stop staring. It was such a long fall, a painful on at that. He was going to die..._

_"Kili, look at me" _

_The voice was calm and familiar, his eyes darting before focusing solely on one thing. A strand of gold hair was pushed out of the way as the edges of his brother's lips turned up into a smile, glad for his recognition. _

_"It's alright, you're going to be okay" _

_He trusted the voice, which was steady unlike the withering branch, his brother, because he knew it was right. Fili never lied, not to him. He gulped but smiled, it was going to be okay. He did not look down, but focused on the other who was safe where he was, who was trying to make him safe. _

_"You're going to have to jump" His brother spoke again, but he clutched the tree tighter. He couldn't! He would fall, all the way down and hit the branches. Down and down..._

_"No you won't" Fili was grinning again, but this time it was more concerned and comforting, smaller than before. Trust Fili to read his thoughts, his grip loosened only slightly. "I'm going to catch you brother, you won't fall, I won't let you" _

_Fili never lied, Fili would catch him. _

_The tree limb groaned and fell beneath him, just enough to where he could feel the tears, all faith gone that had filled him before. He cried out his brother's name because there was nothing else he could do and nothing else he wanted but to be safe. His brother was safe, he always was. He needed his brother. _

_"FILI!" _

_He looked through the blurred image, the greens and browns of forest, to see his brother leaning his way. With a hold on the tree only, Fili was stretched across the gap as far as he could and more; his brother seemed bigger than he ever had. His arms were outstretched, open for embrace, smile gone. _

_"You have to jump" _

_He shook his head, body shaking, he couldn't! He blinked, but the tears kept coming, hot and blinding like sweat on a summer's day. He was babbling, but not yet screaming, when he managed to see his brother again, eyelids heavy with saltwater. The gap couldn't have gotten smaller yet it looked as though it had, a hand only slightly bigger than his own almost half way there; he searched before finding his brother's gaze once more. _

_"Kili, I will catch you" The branch creaked again and he almost didn't hear the words, but he saw them, the trust projected in the dry eyes of the other. It was so far, he didn't make it, but Fili has said he would. _

_Fili never lied. _

_His brother knew he could do it. _

_Then he was away, from the trunk and the falling branch. Most would've screwed their eyes shut but his were wide awake, focused on the one he was moving towards. His eyes were wide and didn't close, not until he was safe in his brother's arms. He was safe. _

* * *

He felt weightless, almost like a youngling; his armor unfelt and his weapons eyes were wide, unhindered by tears but instead rain, yet he still saw him. His brother, still there, the same place, as he always was. Now it was stories to fall, an abyss, as opposed to feet and death as compared to a broken arm at stake. There was no branch, no cracking, just rock and shaking ground. There was no light, just a hurricane of clouds above and an abyss below ready to swallow him whole. It was so different. It was the same. Fili would catch him, he knew such as truth.

Fili never lied, not to him.

* * *

Reviews? IT"S STILL NOT OVER - I just have to type it up. BUT IT WOULD BE NICE TO KNOW REACTIONS!

**So, will Fili catch him? He better, or Kili's life will ALL BE A LIE. **

**XD Until next time. (I'm going to bed) - I'M SORRY FOR THE SHORT CHAPTER, IT'S JUST HOW IT ENDED UP. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter three has arrived.**

**Note:** Just pretend to for me it's not the full distance - because no one would make that. Remember that it's AU - Kili has quicker reactions and jumps before they are entirely apart. And the stone giant pauses in getting up...to yawn. Or something, just roll with it. Yes I am totally ignoring canon, BUT KILI HAD TO LEAP, HE HAD TO BE MAJESTIC SOMEHOW. ( If you don't get that I pity you)

**AN:** There is more MEMORY, as there will be in future chapters, and it will be like this so you can know the difference between PRESENT and PAST.

**ANN**: I apologize once again for any inconsistencies and the short chapters. **THE POVs are show in order - FILI, FILI MEMORY, and then KILI.** (We have Thorin, just a smidge, soon enough)

**ANN**: All other warnings, the disclaimer, and information can be found in the first chapter!

**Here we go, enjoy. **

* * *

It was agonizing, waiting; he would have been happy with his brother with him or on the other cliff face but now Kili was no where safe. There was nothing to support him except for the faith he had in his brother and that was not alright. Wishful thinking meant nothing in the face of battle, of lose; hope was worthless when it came to the important things.

Hope had not kept their father alive, nor their mother when she followed years later. Wishful thinking and faith and prayers to Durin did not stop Smaug from taking their home before his birth. Kili had that and such made him a fool because faith did not mean that their hands would connect, that he would be able to haul his brother up onto the rock, that the momentum would not take them both over...

No. He tried not to think, to let angry curses of the past fill his head and distract from the simple, but life threatening task ahead of him.

He would catch him. His brother would not fall, no.

No is the answer he gave to all the doubt, the wandering logic of the situation.

(The small tremors going up his hand as he tried to fuse it with the rock, no to the idea that he would not support them both. The space between them, the fact that he may not be reaching far enough, not this time. The forces he could not control, the stone monstrosity moving, Kili stranded and sentenced to falling to a painful...No. No to it all.)

It was unwise, but he ignored the whispering thunder and roaring questions, one that demanded attention and the other that pleaded for answers. There was only preparation and awareness, to obtain a firm hold and keep it. His bones felt pained and numb as he stretched to his limit and past to give all that he could on his side.

It was strange, almost comical in a bizarre turn, to be in the same place as before; one would've thought he would have learned from the past and prevented an event such as this from happening once again. At the same time, he was assured by that fact, of the compared and similarity, that the ending would be the same as before.

He would catch his brother and hold him close.

(There was no other way this could turn out, just as he had only had one choice when his name had been called. No matter the risk or foolishness of them both. There was no other way)

He would, or go over the side with him. No matter what happened, Kili was not going into the dark.

Not alone.

* * *

_He didn't hear the branch hit the ground or the chirps of the disturbed birds because in truth there was only one thing he cared for. That thing, person, was airborne at his request, moving towards him._

_In the back of his mind, there was a hinting fact that he wasn't able to block out like everything else. The solution he had thought of to the problem, his brother of a breaking limb, was simple and logical, but it was dark. Hopeless in some respect, that he had asked his brother to jump, to trust him when there were no guarantees. Nothing to suggest that he was right, that he could even catch his brother and save him. Keep him safe. Nothing. NOTHING to suggest that he would succeed, that the broken body would not be on the ground..._

_No._

_No._

_He anticipated the smaller person, pushing the visions of death and fear away, far away to where they would bother him no more, not now and hopefully never in the future. He had told Kili, with a smile and no fear, promised him that he would be caught. THat he would be safe._

_He would not forgive that trust, that faith, now now or ever._

_( His eyes were there for every moment, yet it surprised him when there was warmth in his arms. The weight was familiar but it still took his breath away as he staggered for nothing but a moment. Fingers raked over his skin before clutching him as he was the person, desperate and perfect. )_

_He wrapped himself around his brother, forgetting what had existed before, the lack of light in mind and the storm clouds circling, and slid down the trunk. With wood at his back, he moved the other, his little brother, closer to his core._

_They were almost the same size, only five years apart, but Kili seemed so small. So fragile and pale compared to the laughing face he lived with, that he saw wake him up in the mornings by jumping on him; it wasn't right. The dark hari quivered and shook as the body did, fists clenched his shirt as tears soaked through. The crook of his neck, the skin that lay underneath, was damp and occupied but he would have it no other way._

_He did not speak, as he should, as their Uncle did in strong tones to sooth and assure; instead he rubbed circles on the other's back and wrapped his loose fur, a hand me down, around them both. It was not a cold day, but the skin against his seemed chilled. Not cold, just different, just enough to send chills down his own spine in worry._

_The tears, that rained harder than it had during great floods, eventually stopped, but they stayed until the sun was past it's peak and heading towards afternoon based tones. He said nothing, as nothing needed to be said; he was grateful, because what would he say? Nothing came to mind._

_Kili was safe._

_He had caught him and Kili knew that, his brother trusted him to do that, to catch him despite the multiple faults in the idea that had led to the conclusion they were at now. It was an undying thing, the respect and almost hero worship that he was being given right now, even without a word being said; something that he wished to preserve no matter how it would become a possible hindrance in the future when they both had to grow up._

_So he would, he decided, as he hugged his brother close._

_He would always be there, always._

* * *

If there was ever a time when he could speak and be unchallenged, by any race be it from dwarf to elf, it would be now. Now when he was powerless and yet powerful at the same time. Now was when cards were in his favor and nothing would bring him down. Not now.  
He was unafraid; his body loose and heart thrumming faster from separation rather than fear. He was safe, even though there were miles, thousands at least, between him and what lay below. It beckoned in some ways, the darkness soothing against the flashes of light and roars of battles occurring higher up.

It was a foolish thought to think, now or ever, but he wondered what it would be like to soar he was in this moment for all time. As the birds did, weighed down by nothing as he was, barely within his own skin. To do so always, fly above, without bounds or limits; he felt himself floating away. Uncaring and limitless, away from all that lay below.

The rain no long felt and the thunder no longer heard, perhaps falling into the abyss, away fro the mountain would not be all that bad. Leaving the past, present, and future for a place of nothingness; an eternity without gravity...

It was warmth that separated him from the clouds, the sky that he seemed to be coming apart of. Then the strange feelings of flight, no matter the length or timing, faded as he was pulled away from the air and back to the ground.

Their hands fitted together, sliding into place without regard for the momentum or the slick rain, as though it was made for it; a lock and key system that let no weakness in it's hold. It was a closer call than last time, as expected with higher highs and lower lows to fall, but it was the same. There was no hesitation or lack of strength as he was pulled back to solid ground, back to the land of reality and the storm.

It was only a moment of gaze, frantic and relieved as Fili looked him over and then posed a question. 'Are you alright?' Unspoken but vital, he answered, nodding with a bit of a smile. He was fine, he was safe.

He was grounded, surrounded by his brother's embrace and the only reason he let go was the was the rock face, formally inanimate, moving beneath their feet. They lurched forward, forced to face downwards, towards the darkness and the lack of anything that lay below. He moved his arms around his brother's waist.

It would all be over soon; he wasted no time searching for a hold on the slippery slope, knowing that Fili already had one on the dark rock strong enough for the both of them; he held on tight. There was an arm snaking down his back, making sure there was no distance, no chance for him to slip away.

The movements of the giants were smooth, effortless in a way as they went into battle, which translated into bumps and momentum that no one could hope to control; he held on tight with wave after wave of the stone monsters pounding away at each other. Nothing seemed normal, like he was in the middle of weightless and reality, nothing exactly solid but the force still threw him around like more of a halfling and not a dwarf.  
Nothing was safe it seems, nothing sacred. In one moment they were together, the next apart as he fell to his knees. One punch from the larger than life enemies sending him skidding precious inches across the rocks, and slipped away, out of his brother's grip.

He, in that second was unafraid of death and fearless in the face of falling. He did not fear that, no trivial matters, that outside of this hellish storm would seem concerning; he feared that he would not be there to return the favor. To be on the opposed side of falling, to be the one saving.

This is the reason why he scrambles to his feet like a rabbit being hunted and clutches to his brother's shirt like a youngling, because Fili is always there for him and he must be there, he must at some point do the same. He is the one always falling it seems, the one protected and in need of safety. He has to do more, he has to get through this, and so does his brother.

He doesn't realize his eyes are closed until he widens them and sees his brother's beard, the silver beads, dangling right at the edge of his vision. The movements have stilled now, something that he finds strange, but ignored in the foolish hope that they are safe now. Both of them; that this event which he wished was a nightmare is over, that they have survived.

He looks to meet his brother's gaze and finds that for once, it's trained on something else other than him. He may have teased the other before, but now, now that is terrifying because what more could mean such that his brother is more concerned about it that him?

There it is, another wall, the mountain side waiting to crush them into dust as the trolls never could. In this moment he can do nothing and the sight of what is coming scares him. The bravery, the fearlessness is gone and all he has to keep him from skidding off the cliff into hopelessness is his brother.

He tightens his grip on Fili' and looks away, because everything is going to be alright.

It has to be.

He will be fine.

He is not afraid.

* * *

**Annnnnd, that's a wrap for this chapter!**

**Reviews? Come on, give me your thoughts.**

**What will happen next, this is an AU...will one of them be injured? FIND OUT NEXT CHAPTER!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello! **

**Note: **Just pretend to for me it's not the full distance - because no one would make that. Remember that it's AU - Kili has quicker reactions and jumps before they are entirely apart. And the stone giant pauses in getting up...to yawn. Or something, just roll with it. Yes I am totally ignoring canon, BUT KILI HAD TO LEAP, HE HAD TO BE MAJESTIC SOMEHOW. ( If you don't get that I pity you)

**AN: **There is more MEMORY, as there will be in future chapters, and it will be like _this so you can know the difference _between PRESENT and _PAST._

**ANN: **I apologize once again for any inconsistencies and the short chapters. **THE POVs are show in order - FILI, The King Himself THORIN, and then KILI to end.** _(Kili's part comes AFTER Fili's next part which is next chapter. I know it's confusing, just deal and enjoy!) _

**ANN: All other warnings, the disclaimer, and information can be found in the first chapter!**

**Enjoy. **

* * *

In this moment, he is terrified and rough.

Scared in the face of stone giants and the fact that he, a mighty warrior and prince, is no more than an ant to the warring enemies, his gentleness is fine as he clutches his purpose closer. He has always been more tender hearted; respectful and careful in his words, afraid to offend and embarrass others. When sparring, he is light in his movements as not to harm, even when true battle will offer no such concessions. He carefully plans, while Kili runs straight ahead with disruption and chaos in mind.

He cares, perhaps too much; harsh and cold are things he never wish to be, in ruling or in life itself. It is hard at times, to not be cruel, especially in the face of elves; the information they were given was helpful, but the stares were almost too much. Looking at them like they were animals, whispering to each other like they were not there to see it; but he remains calm and composed. Gentle, as is his nature.

But now he isn't reassured, he is not calm; he is not eased by the warm outline against him as he usually. His brother is there now, but what of the future; he is not safe now, so he crushes them together with both arms. He foolishly forgets his handhold on this godforsaken mountain , his care for that shrinking and eclipsed by just holding on to the only thing he has left to protect.

Their parents are dead, their Uncle half way there and all he has in the end is Kili; the only one who has any trace of innocence, any trace of normal. In this moment he wonders why he holds his brother so tight, but with everything else, he already knows. Through the rain, the storm, he already knows.

They will hit the mountain, no matter if he holds the rock at his back, the impact being enough to break bones and splatter blood; the decision is one made unconsciously even though the mind agrees. He uses his last moments for his brother and not the cold rock face.

Kili is nestled against him, accepting of the paranoia he is feeling, unjudging and content with his position his face in the crook of his shoulder; it make everything that much worse. The fear and guilt are like bile in his throat, to the point where he might vomit if they stopped moving. There's nothing that could of hurt him more in this moment, but he wasn't sure what he had expected.

His brother trusts him; with his life and secrets, that is how it has always been. When the younger was born he would come at the end of the day, everyday, and share the sights, the sounds that was his day. No matter if the infant could respond with anything more than shaking fists and bright eyes, he would tell him tales of training and of their Uncle, their brave king under the mountain. It wasn't long until the favor was returned, in the form of babbles that he, not their mother, helped construct into proper sentences; the dwarfling telling him about the simplest things as though they were fascinating. A stick as a sword, the brown haired devil leading the few other children in an attack against a tree orc. It was so simple back then. Nothing has changed much since then; secrets are still shared, space still holds them both, and he is still the big brother.

Kili trusts him and the simple truth is that he cannot deliver safety, not this time. Everything is out of his control, they are ants compared to those who almost hold them in hand, and yet he is still trusted with their fates. There is so much hope, faith around him, coming only from Kili and it hurts. It is agonizing, because he can do _nothing _against the dark wall that approaches. He can do nothing, other than hold his brother close and hold for the best.

It kills him that this is what he has been degraded to, so small that he can do nothing except feel the unwavering and untarnished trust expressed by his brother's relaxed for and hope that they will survive this. He rather face a pack of orcs alone than be where he is now, because then he would have a weapon, he could do something; here is just a personal hell in which he waits. Few, he expects, are exempt from this chilling realization, this fear of having nothing to do in the face of death. So few that not even the king is spared, not even the battle hardened oak legend is spared the fear of nothing.

Moments before, he saw a flash of something in the eye on his Uncle; their gaze only connecting for a moment as they went through the air, rain sliced by the limbs of the giant. It was only a moment, a passing glance that showed him something he thought had been burned out of the kind long ago.

Fear, for them.

Thorin never shows...rarely concern or weariness, never fear. It was if there was nothing other than revenge, the drive to reclaim their kingdom; emotions fleeting as he stood as the pillar for the company. It had not always been this way, there were still memories of hiding in the trees with his brother while their Uncle hunted them and stories beside the fire of roaring dragons and treacherous elves. Now their Uncle was but a shell of that, the years weary on his composure and compassion. It had been at least a decade, if not two since he had seen emotion, worry on his king's face.

And yet there it was. For this, he assures himself that his panic and self loathing is justified in this moment. There is so much more he could of done and yet here they are. The view of his Uncle does nothing as the regret swirls and pure sorrow runs through his veins.

They are about to die - his grip, though it seems impossible, tightens, and there is nothing he can do. No words to be said, no actions to perform, no emotion that could ever spare the pain; nothing that could prevent what is coming. In this moment, he has failed. As a prince, a heir of Durin, and a dwarf. He has tried and yet this how it ends.

He has failed as a brother.

( A tear rolls down his cheek and loses itself in dark hair; only with pride does his eyes stay open and face the stone, his and his brother's death, like a man. )

* * *

The wind slices by, mimicking that of the fateful day; the dragon's breath still burning it's way into his skin, no matter the decades that pass. Then it had all been lost; lives and legacy that belonged to only the dwarves, to his people. Then they had been alone, he had been beside himself.

His grandfather was devastated, ignoring all in favor of peering into the sky towards their mountain, his father sorting through refugees and doing the best he could, and there was him. He was not king, not then, he was just a dwarfling in the face of all this. A child, ripped of his pride and family; his brother already across the lands with his mother and his sister nowhere to be found. She had been living in the area most affected, her husband near enough to the mountain to where they allowed her that much space, to live her life outside the mountain.

Then he had regretted it, because now he had no idea. No news of her life, or death, and while he did not feel it in his bones, that was no promise, no reassurance in the face of his sister's death. With her were her sons, his nephews and if she had passed...

There had been a shout, a gleeful shriek to break him from his facade; the mug in his hand had turned over, liquid dripping down the bar as he turned to see the most blessed sight. The top of a blond head had rushed at him, to which he held close and hugged until he could see past tears.

Dis had smiled at him, the same crooked expression he had of sorrow and hope, before letting him cradle the other. Both had wide eyes, the elder asking him why he was crying, and he didn't answer. He didn't have to, he wasn't alone.

Now, when the wind is so similar and instead of fire there is rain, he thinks back to the pain and had decides that it is so much worse, now is so much worse. There is rain, blurring everything, but he can see the crystal clear clarity a face of anguish.

It is the same he had that day, when he only had the company of one and news of himself instead of what mattered most. It is so similar that he cannot mistake the person the expression belongs to.

It is his heir, the prince under the mountain, his replacement to rule the dwarves. Strong and tall, trained and skilled for whatever will come. No stranger to blood or battle; a true Durin. But all he sees is the same scruff of blond hair that would hold onto his leg and beg for another story, even when the moon was high and bright. The one that would speak loudly and take the blame, even if it was the other's hand that was in the sweets. One of the two that would go to the fields to pick flowers for him, because he had not hid his sorrow well enough.

All he sees is is Fili, his small nephew.

A youngling trying so hard to be brave, to stand tall while others bow. From the beginning, the dwarf had tried so hard to grow up so fast. Using sticks to practice moves he saw the others performing, spending his days learning to read and write faster than others his age; energy was put into learning not playing.

Now, as always, attached to Fili's side was the younger of the two and he can barely see where one ends and the other begins. He understands the expression of his sister son's face, as he has felt the same emotion before, as he is sure he is now. The other's eyes is open to the situation before them, not even the fear of death enough to make him hide as the younger is.

Even with that, all he sees is a child, a dwarfling who could make him smile even after the longest days. His brother was no difference, the two climbing over him right after he walked in the home.

His expression is deeper, more painful than the other's will ever be, not due to age or scars but the fact that they are is weak point. Because all he can see are the the two small lads that were his light through the years after the kingdom was lost. All he can see are the two that used their combined strength to barely lift a battle ax, just to prove to him that they could, that they were old enough to be taken hunting. (He still made them wait two years) All he can see is the two who tried to make him soup when he fell sick and ended up serving him burnt noodles and boil broth, he ate it all the same. These are the two that he held when his sister passed, whispering low tones of soothing warmth to their tears long into the night and for months afterwards.

All he can see are them, scared to death.

And he can do nothing as the images of this day burn into his mind, worse than the agony of his grandfather's head could ever be. He wants to regress back decades, to where he could still hold them and run his fingers through their hair, comforting things that had fallen away in time. All he does is watch as the unforgiving cliffs fall closer together by the moment and the embrace of the two grow tighter.

The rest of the company, whose screams and yells are muted, is forgotten in place of them. They are his sister's sons, who he should never have allow and who he couldn't say no to.

Later, he finds his voice hoarse and throat aflame, but now he is unaware of his pleads for their safety to the heavens. The curses and names blend with the rest, the clouds overhead and all that is known is the image. He does not wish to, but he cements it to mind, the two in each others arms because the image will stay but the blood to come won't. It will wash away and he needs something, even if it brings an onslaught of images that to him.

That of the two buried in the same position, the darkness of death not even to separate them, somehow at peace. Fili, though eyes closed then, still unafraid for both. Then the stone closes the tombs and he is left where he was then, alone.

Hope and love must remain, even now, because while he is king, he is not made out of stone.

* * *

Strange it is, that he is safer than he has even been.

Even high above the ground, even closer to death than before; even with rock, the rain, and the howling danger just waiting to be noticed by him. Even then with all that, there is no panic, no pain, and all he hears is a steady drum in his ear.

Only slightly off tune to his own, faster, it's more than the lullabies that used to be sung could ever be. Then, when he sank into the pillow and fussed about the timing through weary eyes and yawns, it wasn't the soft spoken tales or crooned songs that put him to sleep.

It was his brother's heartbeat, which even now is the only thing that makes everything alright; untarnished and strong, soothing more so than the thickest fur or the strongest ale. It was one of a warrior, a special one just for him.

And now, when he knows what faces them, he is unafraid. The idea of being crushed to death would shake even the more battle hardened veterans, let alone him, a youngling still by their standards and yet he doesn't care. He is unafraid. Because the only thing he can hear is it, the heat and _woosh _of blood through veins.

It's a sweet hum that keeps him there and safe, even if he is weightless once more, as they fly through the air towards certain doom. He doesn't float off, not even for a moment with the grounding beat there to guide him.

This time, his eyes are closed to the point where he is unsure they will ever open, but he is not alone. Even now, as he is falling, in mid air, to what is most certainly his death; he is safe.

He has been caught and saved, just as promised before, even if that time seemed as though it was ages ago, not existing in his life as this moment is right now. The concept of time is gone and he accepts that perhaps he already dead and this is what lays beyond, life in the embrace of the other.

He cannot help but smile into the skin against his - it's alright.

( He listens to the sound, blessed as it is, all the way down. Blind to the world and worry until the body against his shudders and stiffens. Until the beat falters, until they hit the ground )

* * *

**The feels continue next chapter. **

**So how did I do, did you like Thorin? *pokes* Give me something. **

**I apologize for the short chapter! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello!**

**Note: Just pretend to for me it's not the full distance - because no one would make that. Remember that it's AU - Kili has quicker reactions and jumps before they are entirely apart. And the stone giant pauses in getting up...to yawn. Or something, just roll with it. Yes I am totally ignoring canon, BUT KILI HAD TO LEAP, HE HAD TO BE MAJESTIC SOMEHOW. ( If you don't get that I pity you)**

**ANN: I apologize once again for any inconsistencies and the short chapters. So POVS - FILI, KILI MEMORY. No more Thorin, not this time ;)**

**ANN: All other warnings, the disclaimer, and information can be found in the first chapter!**

**Btw - No one dies. Fili is just being a worry wart, as he should. NO ONE DIES.**

**FLUFF ALERT. Yeah, I watched the movie again. Too many feels and this is what you get. Especially the last part of this, I am so sorry, no idea where it went. **

**QUESTIONS?! ASK ME! **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Overhead, the storm settled in a way, clouds drifting away into the night as their songs the day before. In some way, he was thankful for this, for the sudden calm that was befalling him. The rage of nature was still raging around him, but there was some semblance of peace in the sky.

They were nearing the end now, the distance left easy to see despite the night and storm. Perhaps in this moment he should feel panic or calm, depending on the way he wished to take his imminent death.

All he had was a head against his chest and tears running down his face, the second mixing with the rain. It was all he had in the mess of the moment, his possessions missing though they were strapped to him and his company invisible though he could hear their screams. It was muted, except for one other thing that seemed to exist beyond him, beyond the mountain. All he had was Kili; not safety, not a warm dry place. It was all he had and it was enough.

It was not the warrior's death he had promised himself, the motivation that had driven him every step of the way through this bloody journey. It was not the reason he had left home, everything he had ever known to come on this mission, that would somehow become nothing more than a legend in time; no, this was not what he had expected. But he was not alone.

He was never alone it seemed; in sleep, in play, in battle. That was how it always was and he he craved the normalcy and consistency that one person seemed to bring. No matter where they went, being dragged from job to job and town to town with their uncle; he always had some level of normal with him. Perhaps it was the only thing that kept him sane.

He was selfish in this way, thinking of himself while sentencing his brother to the same fate as him. In a way it was fitting, a cruel concoction of the higher powers that be, that they fall on the same day, side by side.

Thoughts had occurred to him before of this being the endgame, that this was how it was going to be no matter what he did. That he would fall and a patch of dark hair right behind, following him into hell and beyond. He had always fought it, vowing to do it differently and prevent that fate for Kili. He had even failed at that it seemed, as he felt the giant stumble and lurch towards death; anything he had tried before now was useless. All he had was his thoughts, doubts, and guilt; no move to make other than try what he had always done.

In the moment, the only thing he did, the only move he made, was to do as he did earlier. He turned his back to the wall, the approaching cliff and ignored every lesson he had ever been taught. Rule number one, face your enemy; stare into it's eyes and attack. Never turn your back, don't leave yourself open, especially with an elf. It was ingrained in his brain, an instinct in his years, and he ignored it. Little to say, there was something stronger than a warrior's instruction driving his movements.

His spine to the air, he awaited death with pride, with honor worthy of a Durin. Some may question how one could feel pride when they knew nothing of what was coming, when their back was turned; he knew not how to explain it, but he almost smiled nevertheless. His back turned and a body tucked and shielded against him; he felt nothing more.

He was wrong before, when he was sure of his failure and capability to do nothing; he could do something, just not enough. The pain would belong to him, he could relieve some of his brother's future agony. Taking comfort in this truth, this desperate hope for the future, he prepared for the force of rock against bone.

It would kill them both, a pessimistic view but one that was filled with logic and experience learned in years that should be beyond his own. Only one had to be speared and smashed against the sharp edges. Only one had to be stabbed in a thousand places by the face of the stone, to where it would be hard to tell where the skin started and the rock ended.

Only one had to suffer.

The other would just receive broken bones or a ruptured organ, something that could have a chance of being fixed. The other would have something better than the pain and snap of taking most of the blow. Perhaps in this way, by Durin's will, the other would survive. There was a chance.

Only one had to hurt.

With this in mind, they went flying; torn from the ledge they had been bundled and huddled on. It was deathly, the lack of noise, the quiet; only by his word was it broken as he whispered. It was so soft that only one could hear, not him though he was speaking, could hear; he spoke of this, that, and nonsense until he could think of no more.

Anything to fill the lack, to make the end something other than a wordless agony. He tried to say of the sun and memories of the fields, so different that the dark and cold they were in. There was attempts to tell stories and hum songs, but they all fell flat with only his voice to say. Apologizes and guilty confessions lasted no longer than the others, because it was sad and he couldn't bring himself to that being the last thing he ever said to anyone, especially his dear brother.

In the end, all that was heard was the same over and over into his brother's ear. The same four words that had grown dusted and unused in the recent decade, due to it being childish and unneeded by warrior standards, although it was always truth. At least in his eyes, he could not speak for his brother, but he was sure it was the same. At least he hoped so. Even if it was not, he had this one chance to say it again. Mumbled over and over until he didn't even recognize the words, but it was there out in the open and he could do no more.

"I love you Kili"

This is what was said as he, not the younger as so many times before, cried. Not this time.

( Impact was nothing less, and so much more, than expected. One could dream and fear their death, but never truly know. The sensation of returning blood, rushing to relieve numb tissue, and the shock of an ice ball, filled with snow and sludge, mixed and attacked in a moments time. He only tightened his arms and failed not to scream; everything was going to be alright. )

* * *

_It's late._

_Even he knows this, even though he knows not of day or night, the concept not taught yet. The light that creeps into his vision is turning a different color. He can't say what, but it's different and that's all that matters. Time has passed, which means that someone should be coming. Someone he likes._

_He is but a child, staring at the ceiling; rolling from side to side in his crib to entertain himself. His feet evaded his grasp today, his arms just not long enough, not yet, and so he just gummed on the blanket nearby._

_He is getting rather bored, as he usually is when he's alone._

_The figure who is a mess of flour and sweets to his nose, whose name is mother if he had heard right, is busy making something that smells new. That took up some of his time today, trying to take it all in. The noise, bangs and sizzles, the shine of light off of something on the wood; but now there is nothing._

_Everything has decided to leave and settle, while he cannot stay still. He misses it, because there is nothing but to rock and try to reach the stringed items that seem miles away. They dangle before him, beads and such, but they grow dull._

_He wants them, then he wouldn't be alone, bored._

_The tall one who looms and gives faint smiles that he can't help but give back, wide toothless things that seems to make it better. The tall one, wider than the others, smells of sweat and fire, with hands much rougher than his own when he wraps his fingers around the skin; he murmurs and babbles because it wipes the shadows away that always seems to come when he does._

_Then there is the the soft one, who holds him and sooths when he screams. He doesn't mean to, but sometimes he just does. When nothing is right or there is pain in his stomach, there is a hum and song, he quiets. The soft one is shorter than the other, less dark, but he still grins in a lopsided way and grabs at the dark hair. Rarely does he get it, but he never pulls hard enough to hurt; although the soft one would come back, no matter what._

_"KILI!"_

_It's loud, even more so with the quiet that had been around him, but he squeals all the same. All his limbs move and shake, trying to move to see the third one. The third one is his favorite, who he waits on when the sun does dark. He can only move, never enough to see on his side, and wait._

_There is other noise, bangs and scrapes of boot against wood and he only screams louder; there's nothing else he could do at a time like this._

_Then there is the third, the light one. Unlike the others, the hair is shine and gold to match the grin he is being given. A head pops into his view, small bits of dirt and leaves touching his skin, and he is relieved. He will never be bored now, not ever. The light one is the shortest, the smallest like him, so he can wrap his hand almost around the one given to him. It's closer than with the others, who are so much bigger; he holds on, never intending to let go._

_The other speaks, telling him of things he has never known of, of things outside of the bed, the window. The light one moves his hands along with the tales and never takes his eyes off of his. He doesn't understand most of it, but he grins and babbles all the same. He will in time, but for now, he's just happy to have someone there, especially the one who carries on conversations with him even if no one responds._

_The other's mouth keeps moving and there is the sound, not as soft as the other and not as deep as the tall, but just right. It tells of trees and swords, whatever those things are, and he just listens with minimal giggles that makes the other smile wider._

_Somewhere over the course of the story, he is not alone in the bed. Even if it is tight, he tries his best to make room because that means the other will stay. He will not be alone. The light one is careful not to squish him, but instead curl around him._

_He plays with the light hair, the silver bead that is tangled in it; he gurgles, which for him is meant to show he likes it. The other smiles, even though he knows the other doesn't understand. On some level he wished he had one in his own, even though he has little on his head unlike the others._

_The light has grown darker overhead, but he does not care; he has the light one with him, it could be anytime and he would still smile. The words have grown softer, to whispers, and he feels his eyelids drooping. His body is slowing even though he tries to keep the grip he has on the bead; it slips away after enough time and he can't hold on._

_Attempts to fuss are met with exhaustion and all he can do is quietly grumble as the light one goes away. To where, he does not know, something about food and dinner; he doesn't like it regardless. The light one climbs out of the bed, leaving him cool without the other, with nothing but darkness as company. He kicks his feet weakly, but nothing will bring the other back, it never does._

_There is a blanket tucked around him and a kiss to the forehead, the light one running his hands through the dark wisps of hair. There are words, of the same voice as the others, but different._

_"I love you Kili"_

_He knows them; he's heard them before, thousand times by them. The soft one rocks him and yells the words to him from other rooms when he is tempted to scream, the tall one just watching while he tries to grab the many beads; the light one says it more than the others, everyday._

_The words sound nice, sweet; he doesn't know what they mean, but he sees the soft expression on the light one's face, on all their faces, and he wishes he could say them back. Their meaning is important he thinks, perhaps the most you could ever say, and he wants to say it. To all of them, to the light one._

_They love him and while he knows nothing of the concept, he loves them back._

_He wants them to know, he wished they did._

* * *

**Reviews? **

**I randomly threw in the Kili memory part so tell me what you think. More is coming, I promise, and no one dies. HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY! :) **

**Have an awesome weekend guys. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Welcome to the magical misfortune that is the newest chapter.**

**(By misfortune I mean the fact that Thorin, the muse at least, was being a little shit. - excuse my language, it's T for a reason - NO ONE DIES I SWEAR)**

**Warning/Note: Yep, still screwing with canon. Completely ignoring it actually. Oh well.**  
**BUT KILI HAD TO LEAP, HE HAD TO BE MAJESTIC SOMEHOW. (If you don't get that I pity you)**

**ANN: I apologize once again for any inconsistencies and the short chapters. So POVS -**  
**KILI AND THORIN (THE KING IS BACK BABY~we needed more Thorin). THE LINE OF DURIN IS IN THE HOUSE, RAISE THE ROOF. **_(There will be lion next chapter, promise. But the chapter would be too long with it.) _

**CLARIFICATION - When they fall, they are face to face. So when the land, Kili is chest to chest with his brother.**

**ANN: All other warnings, the disclaimer, and information can be found in the first chapter!**

**THORIN ANGST AHEAD - DURIN LINE ANGST AHEAD, IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY. YE BE WARNED. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

(It stutters.)

The bottom drops out from beneath him and he feels himself fading, just for a moment, the faint feeling of flying from before coming back to remind that there is always a chance. Always the possibility that he will not be grounded, falling without one to catch, even though he wants to silence those whispers.

He doesn't know where he is, what is going on, just nothing. Then there is ache and twinges of pain blossoming as something comes to hit him, beat him; it is all expected, but there is something amiss.

His surroundings lurch and crash together; he holds on to the nearest thing, which is as somehow warm, for dear life. In that moment he's glad that his eyes are closed, for he is sure he would lose his wits and lunch if he was witnessing the world flying by.

Sound is composed of smashes and crunches, but it is only around, not on top of him; still, he clutches the handhold, which is firm even when the world seems like it's on its last leg and about to collapse.

He tries to think of the context, why he was being treated as a ragdoll, because things such as this did not happen _that _often...his temporary lapse, due to dissociation (at least that's what he blames) retreats and he is chilled more than the rain could ever hope to.

They were finally getting away from those damn tree huggers, the elves, and they were going to meet Gandalf in the mountains...giants. If one of his hands were free, he would have reached to run his fingers through his dark hair, a comfort that was almost as old as he was; instead he focuses on living through what is around him, because only thing was certain, it wasn't over yet.

If he had to guess, he'd say that they were towards the end of it all, but who could be sure within the chaos that was his life at the moment. Awareness is something he forces to come back, because he had to know more; how close were they to this being over, to safety for everyone?

He only feels the slightest scratches on his skin and he knows something is wrong.

It's a harsh fall, there is no doubting that truth, worse than their burglar being thrown into him by the troll; it is painful as it jars his bones, but there is something missing.

There are no rocks shredding his skin, no dark daggers stabbing him; there is no damage to him, nothing that would be expected. On some level, he wants it because then he would know he is alive; pain is unavoidable at times, but it tells you that you are still among the living. No pain means that...

There is nothing but his brother against him and while it is nothing less than he wanted and wished for a moment ago, his eyes snap open in panic. His own dreams and wishes mean nothing in the face of the pained expression that greets him; his heart drops further than his body ever could and his body burns with horror at the sight.

The expression is drenched in agony and the disappointment, in the face of the person that is the most important, is more than he has ever felt in his life.

Eyes are fluttered but not completely open and there is a _smile _on the others mouth, despite the pained lines that seem engraved in skin. It is faint, but the lips are unturned and he almost wants to scrunch his eyes closed again so he doesn't have to see it.

Instead, they open wider as he wrangles his way out of the steel firm grip. It was if there were more limbs than normal, because every time he was released from one, the other arm curled tighter around his waist.

Eventually the snug touch falls away, limp in a way that terrifies him, and he is loose. Standing is harder than usual, his knees filled with tremors from the extended ride of the knee of a stone giant, but he eventually gets shakily to his feet. About to lean against the mountain, he finds their burglar by his side, perhaps even more shaken that he is. The Hobbit is against his leg, as though he does not want to touch the stone, and in a way he does the same.

He looks back to where he once was and nearly falls again; the smaller creature and Dwalin keep him from face planting. He does not space the bald warrior a second glance as he gapes at the sight of the limp body that cradled his into oblivion and landing.

Someone touches him, his hands, and he barely looks; out of the corner of his eye he sees red, blood. But it can't be his; there was nothing that could have done it. Besides, his hands were around the waist of his brother. He is tempted to close his eyes at the revelation. The slices do not belong to him, he was not stabbed. He is unhurt, if only his hands would stop shaking, but that does not mean that...

He does not panic.

He does not worry.

He does _not _push past his Uncle, who is by Fili's side, and prop up his brother so that his body separates the other from the stone under their feet.

He doesn't call to the other, saying his name over and over until he is sure he is babbling and sounding crazy. He does not, but then again, what else is there for him to do except hold the other as he had and pray to every one of his ancestors for safety.

He ignores the blood; even if it is right before his eyes, smudging against his hands as he tries to smooth out the dirt and wrinkles in his brother's cloak, no matter how trivial the matter is. He can see rips in the fabric, the shirt underneath; he runs over the seams and tells himself he can't feel the skin, the wounds that lay under his touch. Blood is dark against his fingertips, the lack of light overhead not helping the matter, as it forms a thin layer over his own skin. He ignores it and runs his fingers through the others hair, no matter if he is making it dirty.

"Fili"

HIs voice is soft now, much more so than moments earlier when he was screaming the same word, more of a whisper. Something has passed, perhaps time since they have fallen, but it is not the life of his brother so he is content for now.

The wounds may be deadly, serious, but he can't bring himself to move; to allow the others to take care of the other. Because there is a chance of the wounds being threatening, but there is also a chance that he is wrong, that they are nothing. It's unlikely, but he silently begs for the second.

The blond hair, wet and soiled, wraps around his fingers and he clumsily braids some of the loose ends. It's a messy thing, but still it reminds him of the past and that they are both still here.

This is his fault; this is the conclusion he comes to, because it always is his fault. He was foolish to think that being together would do anything, save anyone other than himself the trouble of being alone during a rainstorm. His brother could have landed on his feet without him there, hindering him, instead of on his back where he was now.

He was selfish and is now, as he resists attempts by his Uncle and the Hobbit, of all creatures, to allow them to look at Fili and assess his health. He should be berating himself, watching as someone actually helps his brother, for causing his brother harm. He was acting like a youngling, making stupid decisions, cross the gap was never a good idea. He knew that and he did it anyway.

All he wanted was to be safe and he ended up putting his brother in danger, in hurting him.

How foolish he is, to condemn his brother to pain, just because he wanted to be held through the storm as he had when they were younger. When he was scared of lightning instead of orcs, he would crawl into the other's bed even though they were too big for the small cot; the heartbeat and breathing of the other seeing to it that he could sleep. He was not a dwarfling now and yet he had done the same as in the past.

He finally lets himself be torn away from the other by someone, numbly letting himself be taken only feet away, with the only thought in mind that he will do nothing good; someone needs to. His vision of the gold is skewed just enough and he tries to curl on himself. Nori and Bofur are on either side; the first but a shadow like himself, shaking, while the other is stoic and stiff, as if he has to be strong for the three of them.

The rain is slowing, as though the sky is sorry for them and gives them that much; a concession against the sins of its neighbors. He can see his Uncle and their Burglar talking softly but arguing all the same, as the others search the mountain side, but nothing has come from his brother. No sign of life, he can't see the lungs rising from where he is.

He holds back tears and almost chuckles, grimly and solemn; what a brave warrior he was.

"Not that I don't love it outside, but can we please get out of this bloody rain?"

(He does not knock Nori, Bifur, and Uncle, _again, _over. He does not squeal like a lovesick maiden at the sound of the familiar voice, throwing his hands towards the sky. He does not dive and slide across the dark stone to the other, causing his brother to wince. He does not cry. He only grabs his brother close and drags him into the cave as ordered by Uncle. He does not glare at anyone who tries to help. He does not smile anytime the other looks at him, holding his hand while the wounds are treated. He does not let go.)

* * *

Past the rain and towering monsters, over the trees, something awaits him. It is there, calling, and he knows it is out there for the taking. Guarded by a solitary sentry, but for the most part open and waiting. Even now, when all seems more important, more urgent, it still presents itself. Whispers almost like wind twist around him and he almost directs his eyes towards the horizon. But he doesn't, there is no need, not now; he knows where it is.

The mountain is out of vision, but he knows it well.

In his memory, there are few images he has not pushed away, buried deep as the diamonds and gold hide; the smile of Dis, his grandfather on the throne to his left with the shine right above, the giggles of the boys...there is also fire and blood, dark scales that slip past at speeds to where he can only see a mass and not an actual thing, white horses and long locks that cannot be pitied to get dirty.

There is the mountain in it all, centered and mixed in his thoughts; neutral is not the word, but rather excused from the torment he gives the other images. There is no scrutiny of actions or lectures of words unsaid; it is above all else, for good reason, and not even reason can reach the ideals that surround and the memories that surge.

It is cool, yet warm; protective on all sides with few weaknesses to speak of, other than a bloody dragon attack that none saw coming. It is strong, yet silent; only the dripping of water and the clink of steel permeates. It is swift in its echoes yet still as only one of age could tell you of.

It is perfect, it is home.

No matter what the legends tell, that it was lost and they defeated, they are wrong. It is home to all, to him; he would know, he was the mountain. In the eyes of outsiders it was strange and foolish, but to those around it was sense more foolproof than the skills of their people. Very rarely did a ruler come that was undisputed, that was seen as respected. If there was no title, even though he did, they would not have cared.

His birth was the proudest day to be held, second only to the discovery of the stone that shined brighter than stars and his name sweeter than any song sung through the halls. The kingdom rejoiced, a strong heir born, hair dark as the mountain and eyes as calm as the cloud overhead. He did not understand, as he played with the wood carved toys and beads wound into his scruffy hair, why was he so important? Not until he was older did it come.

He ran through the halls as a youngling and his hand keeping time over the smooth stone walls, unconcerned and yet aware of all going on around him. Every movement was of interest and due to such his days were spent in the mines and nights outside observing the sky.

The mountain cast a long shadow he found, when he was denied to become a miner as he wished and instead was kept clean from the dirt due to status. He was only to observe and rule, as the rock around them did, a job he found uninteresting and useless; almost just as the mountain was. After all, it did little more than exist.

How wrong he was.

Fire rains down and scorches everything within reach, even beyond. The cool stone is turned blacker than ever, warm to the point where it is unnatural and to be surrounded by the once familiar would cook you alive. It is almost of suffocation, the looming loud and fierce; calm is replaced with panic and pain.

He only escaped by luck, thrown out by cowardice and the pull of others; at the end of the day, the year, it becomes clear that he is the only part of their home that survived the attack on their lives and all that mattered. The only semblance still free, although scarred to the core.

The timing was poor, but leading had always been his path; the routine was bizarre and the lack of normality he had grown with was sorely missed. The first decades were worse than the storms he had ever seen and even past the eye of the dragon that had glared; but they survived.

The looming figure had been replaced, temporarily he planned, and while it was different, the similarities could not be denied or missed.

He is the mountain.

Strong as the stone and yet calming, just as the tunnels had been after a rainstorm, how tried. Oh how he tried to be as tall as the dark peaks, scrape the sky every day, yet some of it was not to be. Silence he had to learn, his temper preventing that trait from growing as fast as it needed to. He is protective and caring, even though his people are misplaced and starving.

He tries, which is why he is the position he is in at the moment.

This was a plan always in his sights, as the mountain is even if it cannot be seen. If it is not tangible there is the image and he plans decades and centuries ahead when it will be theirs again. Then perhaps, even though he cannot, he can disappear into the tunnels and let the mountain guard their race. Then he would not have to try, because the original source would be in its rightful place.

He always sees it, even as he takes its place as the flagship and leads the others to what lays beyond. It is always there and he tries to mirror it as best he can.

Strength is required and he cannot show anything else, no matter his emotions on the issue. Guilt, sorrow, and all is felt not by the people and yet he is stone faced; angry at times, but for the most part flat. If he shows anything it could lead to disaster, only recently have the wounds become scars and be bloody no more.

He has to be strong for his people, because if he falls then they all will; it is unspoken but it is truth. The stares of adoration in the eyes of the dwarflings and their parents alike, the whispers of _king _and _Durin _under the ear; he sees it all and he knows there is no other choice.

They are here due to that, because they are all one year, one more event away from crumbling to the point where he cannot bring them back. He knows this because he is not the only one longing at the looming in the sky, sighing and silently cursing the temporary that should be stone. They have to take back what is there's or they will fall.

The early signs are already being shown, in his own sister sons, his heirs; the youngest clutches to the other, who is obviously in pain, and irrationally assumes the worst. He does so as well and does not know if his reaction would be worse if they still had their kingdom, but they are all worn and close to breaking.

And he cannot let that happen

So he leads them on rumors of a dried dragon hide, rotten and cold, knowing the dangers; the goal being that of stability and sanity, a task in which he is a poor student in.

For now he remains where he has been for years; standing as tall as he can, strong and firm. Unmovable and calm in the face of the desperation that befits them when it should be no race, not even the elves.

He stands tall in his stance, prideful, even now when the weight of wet fur is on his shoulders and the cries of his company and nephews is on his heart. His back is straight, common place for him as he conveys that he is as sturdy as stone.

Or at least he is meant to be.

That being said, he is glad that he is bowled over by his nephew. He is glad that he is pushed to the side and yanked from the façade that has become his mind and life; he is glad to the point where a smile is on his face.

He watches the two argue, mostly Fili complaining that he doesn't need help and the other slapping his brother's hands away that try to remove his own, and he knows that his dark prediction of falling is true.

It will happen, when their voices fall silent and the company does not complain of the rain or food, when he is either alone with the two dead beside him or he is in a tomb himself. He tries and it is not enough, it will never be.

It will happen one day and there will never be a smile again, from him or from his precious nephews who tease him now of looking like a wet pony.

It will happen one day, but not today.

Not now.

And he is humbled, before turning his eye back to the mountain that no one but he can see.

* * *

**So...how was Thorin? You all said you wanted more, SO I DELIVERED. **

**Are you not entertained? (I know you are, I love you all for it) **

**REVIEWS ARE LOVE! **


	7. Chapter 7

**I told you guys there was more! Sorry for the delay, but I had to write most of this from scratch, the original didn't have enough feels! The reason it might of seen to be done last chapter was because we have no more present! Thorin, so I felt as though he needed to have some finality to his character. **

**Warning/Note: Yep, still screwing with canon. Completely ignoring it actually. Oh well.**

**BUT KILI HAD TO LEAP, HE HAD TO BE MAJESTIC SOMEHOW. (If you don't get that I pity you)**

**ANN: I apologize once again for any inconsistencies and the short chapters. **

**So POVS - Fili, Kili, Fili again (because you have to end where you started)**

**ANN: All other warnings, the disclaimer, and information can be found in the first chapter!**

**This is the last chapter, that I have planned anyway, so I would like to say that it's been a pleasure writing for you and thank you for your support. **

**Enjoy.**

* * *

Once again, as it turned out, he was in pain.

The concept of bodily injury was not foreign to him, his experience with it stretching back to his first years when he would judge distance wrong and fall down the stone steps of their home; but that did not mean he had to like it. No one did, the idea of being weak, immobilized as the nerve endings screamed; the only concession being that sometimes it was minor like a scratch and other times it burned like wrapping your hand around a hot sword, it wasn't always at it's worse.

Awareness came back slower than the developing bruises, so he tested the limits of his body with no concerns of the outside world. There was something heavy on his chest, but that did not deter him, much.

Twitches of the shoulders led to inaudible winces, as the rolling of fingertips brought a grimace; any movement brought him pain, which greeted him like an old friend despite his youth, he was tempted to sigh.

Yet he remained positive; the pain was not that of agony, which one would expect from a life threatening wound. Rather, it was something slightly above the scratches that developed from his fights with KIli, in which they would settle their arguments with fists and trying to put the other in a headlock.

This pain was not bad, still not welcomed, but prefered to that of a stab to the heart; it reminded and confirmed what he had foolishly hoped moments before - he was alive. Pain reminded that there was still a body to inhabit, that the soul had not flown above to join the others of it's clan; he was still here.

Unless he was in hell, in which he would soon open his eyes to the fires of a forge baking him alive and the image of his brother being torn by wargs; he shuddered at the thought. If that was true, then it would be a punishment; one that he more than likely deserved for the fate he gave his brother. Crushed by rocks was not the worse way to go, but not the way he had planned his kin to fall; if he had his way they would not fall at all, ever.

As this foolish thought came to mind, he was tempted to laugh, awareness manifested itself and told him that he was still among the living. That this was not a nightmare, that the skies would not be darker than the shade of Erebor and the evil laughs of Azog and elves would not be around him; he was still here.

With this to steady his fears, he opened his eyes, prepared to see which world existed around him. They fluttered almost immediately from pain and weariness, but he fought to use his vision. He had to know, if it was dark or if they were camp, if he was alone or surrounded; if so, by what? There was too much unaccounted for; he had to be strong for everything, for himself.

Doing such was easier said than done and when he finally thinks he can see something, he almost let's go out of anguish and annoyance. It is all blurred, worse than the moments of rain and storms, and none of it will focus for him. Yet he still fights, he has to know about the others, what of his brother?

So he holds on, trying to center on something; something that would keep him awake and in the pain of this world, because while he rather rest he knows he has to stay here. He wants it to be sight, so that he can see something familiar and know that he is home. It is warm there and comfortable with nothing other than smiles; he knows it isn't possible, for home to be where he his. As well, his hope of vision giving him anything seems unlikely at the moment.

He needs something and, as if heard by the gods, it comes a moment later.

It was not light he saw as he tried to keep his eyes open, nor was it the movement of his body being moved; to where he knew not nor by whom, but he welcomed it. His back ached and was a steady flame of discomfort. It is not the feel of rain sliding over skin. No, it is a sound.

It rivaled that of screams, ruled over the orcs, giants, and battle combined that try draw his attention. It was earth shattering, yet not roared, desperate yet soothing in his ear; he smiled.

"Fili"

It was unlike the expected, but that much more grounding; not brash or loud. It is a soft call of his name, smaller than he would ever hear, and so much more, so much more focusing than a thunderclap that roared overhead. It is what he did not expect, but he accepts it anyway, he loves it regardless.

The sound brings him back and away from the dark that haunted and teased him, it is there an everything comes to him. He is still in pain, but he knows where he is.

Dark smudges become those familiar, all with grimaces and shock as expressions, and if he was well enough, he would've laughed, asking if they had taken brooding lessons from his Uncle. Speaking of the King, the majesty himself is right there, looking not to him, but behind him with a look of concern and worry.

Before he can consider what that could mean, or why he did not see his brother, he relaxes. It's not voluntary, not all the way, but against the pain in his shoulders is warmth. He knows who it is and cannot stop the faint smile on his lips.

In his ear is the soothing sound of his own name, in a cycle which he wonders if it will ever end, and against him is the coinciding rumbles. It's faint, but he can feel the thumping and thrumming of another's heart. Then he knows that he has been given what he wished for, he is home.

He should feel sad, guilty at the tone used with his name, the sorrowful level the voice has taken; but he can't.

He is smiling.

They are both alive; unless this is heaven...no, he's still in pain, still here.

His mistake has not led to a disaster as he had planned for and foresaw in the moments before now, when the dark stone and rolling storm suffocated. They are not bits and pieces strewn into the dark caverns, to where they would rot as the dragon lives.

Now, he feels foolish and ready to laugh at himself, wanting to be rid of the evil in his thoughts and malice at his self worth. He knows, he should reflect, think of how to remember this in the future and prevent the mistake, but then the warmth is gone.

It's strange and he is tempted to let out a small sound of annoyance, but instead he responds to the removal of his brother with the jest he is feeling. Happiness is something that should not be expressed while one is in pain, but he can't help it; so, despite the fact that there's a good chance someone is going to hit him for being so light hearted, he speaks. It's low, but sly and he's almost glad he can't see his Uncle's face where he's arguing with the halfling; he gets the feeling the King would not be happy. But he does it anyway.

"Not that I don't love it outside, but can we please get out of this bloody rain?"

It's an honest question, but he expects the embrace a moment later. It's just like before, how it's always been; not to say he doesn't let out a small moan at the crushing force of being run into. The smile remains on his face, even if he cannot tell the difference between when he is under the stars and the moment when he is moved into the cave due to the spots in his eyes.

That doesn't stop him from lightly smacking the hands holding him and mildly complaining of the help he is receiving; in return there is banter that he can hardly understand, but it's there. Safe, familiar, and the breaths come easier.

When there is a lack of rain and another source of light, fire, he lets himself be led. Perhaps it's not the proud dwarf thing to do, but he can almost feel the stares of pity, so the protests die down when the exhaustion sinks in.

He's carried around from here to there and he doesn't care much to complain, the warmth is still there; the pain is almost less than an ache right now, so he let's his brother carry him although as the eldest it should be reversed.

No matter how he ignores it though, he still feels anxious; just a bit. The joyous feeling fading as the rain did; while his body feels better, his thoughts start to push back in and return to wreak havoc.

At least he is the only one suffering, instead of them both dead; this thought keeps the weary smile on his face. He pushes any sign of a frown off his face and keeps it there as he is sat down by the fire. It's the only place where there is enough light to treat him.

It is not life threatening, but if left in he will not be able to continue; luckily he trusts the others, therefore has no qualms about allowing the sensitive and swelled wounds on his naked back to be kneaded and touched for healing. The other hands are not as warm as the ones holding him up, but the skin accepts it and he stills as he was taught.

There are hushed tones as the two healers wash away the blood and he only winces minimally. Ironically, the smaller wounds he has now hurt more than larger scratches, but he's too weary to laugh at it. The smile on his brother's face shows enough amusement for the two of them and even if it seems impossible, he knows Kili had the same thought he did.

Their roles are reversed in a way, as he leans forward to allow Balin and Oin to pick out the shards of rock that were the only injury besides bruises suffered by the company. Instead of air, his head finds the chest of his brother to lean on. He is tired and indulges himself, knowing that his brother would smack him upside the head if he even thought about not resting.

The skin is warm and it moves slightly with every breath, a tangible rhythm that distracts to where he barely feels the pinches of skilled hands removing the stone. He's tempted to smile against the skin when there are hands in his hair. The braids are a mess from before and slowly the tangles are smoothed, with as much care as one would give a youngling; he is dirty and covered in grime, but the touch is delicate and comforting.

His place against his brother is barely disturbed and he allows himself partial rest. The warmth is not his, but he sinks in that much more; he cannot be hurt, not now. The fear and guilt and even most of the pain slips away; he knows that he should have his guard up, but he just listens to the beat.

It's cloudy around his head as he wanders, a steady base against him, but he knows his place. There is no unknown, not now; he knows where he is.

Home, he feels it in his bones; no matter if the concept was a place, the cool stone sheltering them.

Or a person.

(Even one without a proper beard.)

* * *

When he sees the light come into the eyes of the other, the world fades around him. Those whom he had once stood by become ink when met with water, the mountain but scratches by a quil; tangible becomes not a word, but a definition.

In the world there is darkness, he has known such since youth, and all gets sucked into the pitched situation they are in. He is no different, he goes along to the other side with no fight left in him; there's no reason. It'd be foolish and so he joins the others.

And then there's him, his brother.

The gold shines, while others' are dulled and frayed, and the smile that is there is warm despite the cool and chill of the haunting fears before. It's perfect, it's whole, and he wishes it no other way; so he pulls them both up and holds the only clear thing to him.

He is but a ghost in the moments that follow, replacing the shadow his brother loses when the only light of the cave is the fire. Careful steps, as if the floor was made of glass, mark his path as he stays as close of possible while never getting in the other's way.

The weight of the bruised prince is on his shoulder and yet it seems as though they are dancing, every action filled with careful planning to account for the pain, a sultry thing, though the fire is that of pain and fear.

The encouragement and nonsense he tells the other as the shards are rubbed from the skin are but whispers, just as the others are around them, and he holds his elder with a hold reserved for younglings. The other has been lulled to sleep, but he just keeps up the pattern of swirls he has set against the other's scalp and feels the warmth and heartbeat. It's there and he keeps it close.

In the crook of his neck, the other finds moving pillow and settles; he just takes in the sight of this and keeps as still as possible as to return the favor. While it should concern him and anger him, the actions of the other, the bruises; it doesn't.

What else should he expect? It's always been that way, since he could barely comprehend that he existed. He could worry, like he used to, and he could yell at the blonde, plead for this to stop. But it won't, he knows this as truth.

His back will always be safe, through the chill and glares and fire that is the past and what awaits, he just prays that he can do the same. There will come a time he knows, when the enemies will engulf or they shall be burnt to a crisp. It's hard at times, but deep down he knows that he will not be left defenseless for long. When the twin swords are gone, a blade will bury itself in his back, he will let it, and the pain will hurt, but he will smile.

He can already see the creased eyebrows and scrunched expression of his brother if he ever knew of this end that was planned and he can hear the words of encouragement to live on. And he would laugh, because there was never another way for this to end.

Perhaps it would be similar as they are now, with a head against the other and speaking, nearly silent, into the skin; the positions reversed but still closer than necessary. Perhaps there would be blood and fire, metal imbedded where the rain was drying and screams instead of conversational mutters that the cave echos. Perhaps it would be that or maybe a night in age when they slipped out of the wrinkled skin...

The last almost makes him smile; amusing is the fact that he would even consider something like that, but he can dream. Instead, his head rises at the call of Balin telling him to take his brother and get some rest. He doesn't hear himself speak, but instead only recognizes the fond and relieved look that comes to the elder dwarf's face at the reply of the other's condition.

So he rises, slowly as to not disturb the other, and stretches the slightly stiff and bruised bones. It's an awkward process, due to the sleeping dead weight against him, and part of him is relieved when another set of hands assist him.

The other part hisses and about snaps that he can do it, that it is HIS brother and he can carry the body a few feet. He is not weak, damn the fact that he is young, he can do it and _do not touch! _But then he sees the dark braids like his own and instead the almost cruel expression on his face melts into a thin smile. The irritation fades into exhaustion and in the end, it seems like the older dwarf is carrying them both, even if his own steps are slowed instead of stopped.

The king is vacant at the moment and he sees is the warmth that is his Uncle; the chill of betrayal is gone and while he still sees the sag of the shoulders before FIli's weight is shared between them, he pays it no mind for the familiar presence in the space he has carved out for himself in this world.

It's welcomed and though he whines a bit when the body comes between him and his brother, to better keep them both upright when he is slipping towards the ground, he still sags a bit more with the fur bristling against his cheek. Somehow it's dry and he leans into the warmth it radiates, moving in time with the muscle below it.

This is how it was, he remembers as they slowly cross the cave - which seems more like a valley that a few feet, he swears it wasn't _that _big a moment ago. Falling asleep in the fields, after a day of play, and they would be curled upon each other in the grass to the point where the approaching steps were barely heard. Then it would be weightless, save for the blonde curls he was holding and the steady arms keeping him close; once or twice he'd opened his eyes to see the ground moving and once or twice he'd seen the smirk of the observers on the street, those who watched the progression in the fading light of the day. Never had he seen the expression on the face of who carried them, he had not needed to then and when he finally wondered about it he was too old to be carried.

Time has passed since then and now he looks through drooping eyelids, his body betraying him when he wants to keep going and keep watch; he looks to the person who is next to him.

The facade is warm, in perfect tandem with the glow that shows off the stone, and the grizzled face of his uncle is soft. The skin is smooth and unscarred by memories that always seem to be following. The beard no longer shows specks of white but instead seems as black as his own head, the eyes blue as the sky outside when they turn to see him.

An arm snakes around his shoulder and pulls him closer, the expression of the elder fond and he swears that he can see a smile. It will be denied tomorrow if he asks and FIli will never believe him, but he returns the turn of the mouth as much as he can before they reach the corner he assumes they are spending the night.

Their burglar is nearly finished with arranging bedrolls other than his own and the ground never looked so comfortable; shadows hide the evidence, but he suspects that there is more padding than there was or will be in the future for the night. Out of habit loyal to his attitude, he leans forward to give the halfling a well deserved thank you hug, but is held back by Uncle. It's for the best, he knows later, as he would have crushed the smaller being with his loose weight, but in the moment he grumbles before being led closer to rest.

He is already stripped down to almost naked in their sense, without his bow or knives tucked into his coat, and he hears the 'hrrm' of disapproval from Bilbo, probably at his tangled mess of hair, before being laid down.

(Later, he learns it is concern that leads to a small argument of wills between Uncle and Bilbo; his behavior worrying and disapproving to the hobbit, but it is accepted as much less to him in the moment. And if Bilbo gives him and Fili small smiles, laced with pain of the past due to this night, for the rest of the journey, he is none the wiser as to why.)

On the way down, being laid carefully by slow motions as to ensure comfort, he meets the gazes of a few of the company and he puts on a lazy smile that tells nothing of terror. They all watch with a softness of the scene, but he can see the flicker of pain and pure fear in their persons. Reminders of the war that has been brought up; so he smiles to try and wipe some of it away, even if he is a moment from sleep.

None of them can see what is in his eyes though, which is for the best; they hold a warning, one that he would give to anyone in this moment. It is one to dare, to dare the others to tell him he was wrong; to berate him for his choice. He know such an attack will not come, but the warning is still there because while he _knows_ they understand, he will not even stand for the idea in his head to exist that someone would say it was wrong. So there is warning for his own thoughts, so that he can try and pretend he will not be plagued in the coming dreams and nights.

No matter what comes, he decides as his back touches clothed rock, today was a victory; at least in his eyes and so he rests on his brother's side. Fili is already tucked into the layers given and he is careful not to put too much pressure on bruised skin while getting as close as possible.

The beat is back to where it needs to be, as the world fades even further, calm and consistent as it lulls him to the welcomed kind of darkness. It distracts him, grounds him, and is the focal point that is needed for all, especially him. Uncle's in their kingdom, their home that drives most; his is not that, though perhaps it should be.

His is more, as it should be to be the one thing that means more than the rest of the world. It's always been there, not a memory of the past like it is for the others. It's a living thing, uninhibited and _his. _Nothing has been lost, such as their homeland, it's still here.

Still here, against his side as he curls closer, in his ear as everything, even the rain bows out; the breathing moving minimally reminding him that he is not the only one in this cave. The beat is still there.

It's not silent.

Not yet.

( When the light dies down and the rain slows, hums outside, he lets out the worry and breathes. He's barely awake, but not yet gone because of the fear and tension. The past he lets drain away until all that is in his mind is the words from before. He repeats them back, so many times that he's sure the words mumble after he is gone, as the heart sends him to sleep, finally, and everything's alright. He's alright.)

"I love you Fili"

* * *

Consciousness comes back quickly, the haze cut through quickly to give him the new surrounds; the light is less that a dimmed candle and the noise is softer in it's distance. The twilight is no stranger to him, the timing fitting for nightmares and fears of the coming day; but there is none of that and he is left to himself.

A lull in the chaos, he decides, a small pocket of near silence.

The rain is but a drip outside and the roars are quelled, the wounds from earlier simmering but forgotten in the practice he has had. His attention is sparse, because while he awake and aware, that doesn't mean that sleep will not claim him once again in a moment. Sleep was strange like that, giving moments in the middle of nowhere to consider thoughts before sending you back to rest. The attention allowed is used for simple or complex matters, dependent on what lingers on the mind, but now every thought is on one thing.

Not the past, the giants which he was sure would haunt him, nor the future, the stone and fire; there is smooth breathing of the one beside him and without thinking he focuses on it. The other is safe, despite his poor, but brave efforts.

The fears put aside earlier have a chance to come back up in the moment and he tries to keep them back, to just enjoy and go to sleep with an arm around him.

So he tries, he is tired after all, he tries to loosen and allow the thoughts to dim as the light is; but he can't. Relaxation does not come, he can't let his guard down even though they are at the back of the cave with twelve armed guards between them and danger. (Well, Bilbo did have his letter opener)

Even that fact makes no difference, even when he knows that the rest will needed for tomorrow; not now, when the cliff was seemingly approaching moments ago. Wet rain makes it hard to hang on and the skin holding tight mends with his own.

He shifts with these thoughts, the ones he's tried to keep down and the only reason, he likes to think despite knowing his injury would of caused him to fall against the wall of the cave, he doesn't get up and pace is the arm that tightens across his chest.

He's tempted to smile but it reminds him why he can't let go of it all, no matter if he wants to; the warm body in his arms, the limbs wrapped around his chest and waist. He can't, because hoping for the best and standing by it not what needs to be done.

It's not enough.

It isn't...nothing will be. This is a moment, but what of tomorrow? Where the winds roar and there isn't an escape to the elves, when the fire singes and not a drop of water in sight; the thoughts swirl and crumble and just cements the fact that it's not enough.

It's a mess, a tempest of thoughts that is making nothing better and making the idea of sleep that much more ludicrous even though he needs it. Tomorrow will be worse if these wonderings come up and a lack of rest makes him paranoid; that would worry everyone and slow them down and...

A conclusion comes to mind and he shivers from something worse than cold could ever be.

He can't protect Kili forever; can't guard his mother's swollen belly and make sure she has enough water, can't glare at those who whisper of a lack or hair and accidentally throw a knife their way, can't wound his own knuckles and break bone when he sees a bruise, can't always catch him and promise the world.

He can't, but he _has _to.

It's all a disaster, one that will lead to failure - he will watch his brother fall and not be able to catch him.

It's truth and he rather be blind in the moment.

( He's muttering, softly, without words of sound. Just pain and sore and worry into the dark hair against him. It's sorrow and love, nothing he could ever communicate in words or friendly punches to the arm, nothing in looks or smiles, to the other. No one would understand and there's just him; he is happy to do it, do it all, but he can't. )

"I love you Fili"

It's soft and barely there, in time with the breathing and for a moment he thinks he imagined it; but it comes again. Sometimes it's just one word, rarely the whole thing; but it's there even when he doesn't think he can be.

He can't, but it says he can, that he will.

(He breathes away tears and doesn't smile, much. It's not enough, but right now, it's okay. He breathes deeper and tries to match the heartbeat against him, while clutching coser. The future is tomorrow and while he can't and is never sure it will ever be, now is safe)

* * *

**So, the end? (Reviews would be awesome!) **

**(Clarification, if needed. I have this headcanon where Kili talks a bit in his sleep at times, little mutters and such, so I decided to use that. Kili is NOT awake when Fili is having his little broody session, but he is just speaking what is on his mind. Namely, his brother) **

**Btw - Thinking of doing one last memory for this story. Thorin memory of a walking, barely talking Kili variety? If you like the idea, tell me and I may just write it! **

**I hope you all enjoyed this story and have awesome days! **


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